Exceeding Expectations
by garfieldodie
Summary: Series 7. Set after Stoke Me a Clipper and before Ouroboros. After Rimmer's departure, Lister reflects on what's happened since and how he feels without him. Complete.


Lister woke up on the seventh consecutive morning since Rimmer had left.

Seven days ago, his old crewmate had donned a blonde wig, the tinfoil flight suit and the dimension jumper and had sped off into the big black to an alternate dimension to hopefully do something brave, daring and heroic. Provided he didn't cock it all up first, of course.

Rubbing the cobwebs out his eyes, Lister rolled into a sitting position in his bunk. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Although he had genuinely wished his old crewmate the very best of luck in his new endeavors, a small cynical part of him was convinced he'd be back within a week. At some point, the _Wildfire _was going to double back and drop his cowardly arse back on their doorstep. And if Rimmer _didn't _chicken out, maybe he'd crashed somewhere and they needed to rescue him, and his confidence would crumble and he'd be unable to try again.

Classic Rimmer, really.

But it hadn't happened. Not yet, anyway. Something in the back of Lister's mind kept saying that Rimmer would be true to form and weasel his way out of it.

Lister had found himself in various states of mind about his crewmate's departure. One part of him was thinking he'd wuss out and be back any minute now. Another part felt incredibly guilty. The previous Ace had told him what happens to all the other Rimmers who took on the job. They died. And he'd seen them all. Every single Arnold J Rimmer in existence within the multiverse was at some point destined to go into orbit around a planet.

At the time, Lister had found it awe-inspiring. In every reality, Rimmer would achieve his dreams, be happy and die heroically. Well, most of them, anyway. There had to be a couple that died just tripping over a brick. This _was _Rimmer, after all.

But now, as he reflected upon it, he couldn't help but feel a little nauseated. Why should every Rimmer be destined to be a busted light bee in a yellow coffin, floating around a lifeless planet? Didn't they get a choice? Shouldn't they get a choice?

These questions had plagued Lister when Ace asked him for help in recruiting Rimmer, but he had shoved them into the back of his mind. After all, it was _Ace _he was talking to. Ace always made sense. Ace could convince anyone of anything.

So he'd gone through with it. He'd convinced Rimmer to accept the offer, in a roundabout sort of way. He'd kept the secret from Cat and Kryten (for reasons he wasn't exactly clear because who the hell were _they _going to tell?). And he'd given that eulogy that he'd basically had to make up on the spot.

Lister couldn't help but marvel at what had come out of his mouth that day. He'd made a few good-natured jokes about the "dearly departed", but there'd been a lot of truth in those words. He'd referred to them all as "friends". They were Rimmer's friends. Somehow, he wasn't sure how, they'd become friends. Sure they squabbled and bitched and hollered at each other, but isn't that what friends do? What friend _wouldn't _rig another friend's groinal box to fall into a third friend's soup?

He absently checked a clock on the wall. Almost noon on the seventh day, and still no Rimmer.

_Not too bad_, thought the cynical part of his mind.

Lister's mind floated back to Rimmer's departure. After a fumbled attempt to take off had set off the "eject seat" mechanism off, he was certain they were rumbled and Cat and Kryten would find out. But with promising smoothness, Rimmer gave them "one last goodbye", and had surprisingly pulled Lister into a hug, and said in his own voice, "See ya, Davey Boy."

And then he left, successfully that time.

Lister had watched from the cockpit as the _Wildfire _zoomed away into the distance and then vanished in a flash of light.

And for the longest time, it'd been very quiet in the cockpit. He'd sat there, lost in a trance, as he worked alongside Cat and Kryten, who were both looking very distracted. He had seen in the reflection on the viewscreen that Kryten had stolen a couple of forlorn glances at the empty chair next to him, and the Cat had forgotten to engage the reheat a couple times, so something was clearly on _his _mind as well.

And then things just got a bit awkward after that. The second and third days were spent mostly in silence. They were all still making the adjustment to having one less crewmember. Now there was more work for all of them, Kryten had to take over most of Rimmer's duties himself. All that tedious work of checking gauges and noting their supplies inventory was now up to them to maintain.

But by now on the seventh day, things were getting about back to normal. Well, not really. Lister realized with some sadness that things were never going to be normal again. He took note that now there was an emptiness within the ship. It was the same emptiness he'd felt after coming out of stasis and finding the crew dead. The feeling of something missing.

Realizing there was a small tear trickling down his cheek, Lister quickly brushed it off. No more of this, he decided. It was time to move on. You made the bed, so you lie in it. Rimmer was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

He checked the clock again. After noon now, and still no Rimmer. He was really exceeding expectations.

And that was when it really sunk in. Rimmer was gone, and in all probability, he was never coming back. And the worst part was that he missed him. He shook his head to rid himself of those feelings and headed for the sink so he could get ready for the day.

Ten minutes later, he sneezed off his cap, and then he ended up not thinking about Rimmer for the rest of the day.


End file.
